Friday’s Fantasy Part 5 The Journey Continues

Image by Epona Schweer via Flickr
If this is your first visit, you can catch up by starting at Part 1, then just follow the links at the bottom of each section to the next.

    A new title has shown itself to me.  Much for Tirashar’s own personality, and character traits. `Ur,N`aro h- Helce {Fire and Ice} A Journey of Discovery. 
The small glen was lit eerily by the flickering flames of the fire, adding to Darfrains sense of unease.  This night had been a strange one.  After his hard and fast ride through the trees, he had almost been drawn to this clearing.  He couldn’t explain it, just a feeling that he had to explore and find out what was there.  Then he had heard the voices, he was didn’t think it was  Tirashar, but he couldn’t be sure.  When he entered the glen, he was relieved to see Tirashar step out from the shadows.

“Who were you talking to?  You should learn to be more quiet when in these forests.”  He said to Tirashar as he slide off his horse’s back.  “Where is your horse? Fein-Alagos need’s some water and rest, he has worked hard this night.” Darfrain said as he stroked his horses mane and ears, the horse nudging his shoulder. 

“Over here, there’s grass and a small creek. White Wind huh, an appropriate name for such a beauty.” Tirashar said as she led Fein-Alagos and Darfrain over to where Moru was grazing contentedly.  “I wasn’t talking to anyone.” she said with a little edge to her voice. “You must have been hearing the spirits, they seem to be quite active in these parts.”

Darfrain looked dubiously at Tirashar, one eyebrow raised in question,  what a strange statement that was, he thought to himself.  These dark woods are alive with the spirits, everyone knew that.  “You should be careful, there are many strange and very dangerous things moving around this forest.  Many an person has entered the Dur Taur, never to be seen again.”

Tirashar grinned under cover of her wildly blowing hair.  “I don’t think we have to worry this night.  The Drayads are fair and kind, they have given shelter to wandering worried souls.  We will be traveling once again very soon, and leaving the protection of the forest. That is when we need to be watchful. I trust the spirits of nature far more than I trust the spirits of people.”

“It’s not the spirits of nature that worry me, but creatures that roam here.  I doubt nature had much to do with their creation.  Only man can have such a distorted imagination.” Darfrain said.

“I have heard of some of the creatures, the Gwegorch for one, how did they come  to be, do you know?” Tirashar asked with an active curiosity.

Dog_Boy“It is rumored they are the remnants from the dark wars.  When sorcerers wandered, frequently creating servants to fill a particular need.  The necromancers would conjure up creations from the depths, intent on dominating all the peoples of our world.  Many still wander here and there, mostly in places of darkness, where they feel protected and strengthened.  Many are the lost souls who had sworn to serve the dark Lords.  Now forever relegated to wandering the darkness, with no thoughts other than to cause pain and grief to those who used  to be their neighbors.”  Dafrain said as he looked around, wondering just what was out there in the dark watching every move they made.

“Like I said, natures spirits are far more friendly, and well meaning.  I prefer them to the spirits of man, who seem always to have ulterior, devious motives.  I come from a small mountain village, where I spent more time communing with natures spirits and their gods than I did with people.  I am comfortable talking to them, and am very careful to always show the proper respect.  One can learn much from them if they will just listen to the messages.  There is music in nature, beauty beyond comprehension, and serenity in the solitude.  Even now, in the darkness of this forest, there is music in the trees.  Can’t you hear it?”  Tirashar said with a soft compassionate look in her eyes.

Darfrain looked on Tirashar with amazement.  There is so much emotion in her eyes, they seem to show her very soul.  Back in the pub, there was certain fire, green with anger, sparked there.  At the time, he had seen a sure confidence, cold as blue ice, a certain knowledge of her ability.  She is not as helpless as many might take her for.  I’ll have to talk with Cloemilla about teaching her how to control what shows in her eyes.   He also sensed something else in Tirashar, he did not know what it was, but he was sure Cloemilla would.  We will see tomarrow.  I’ll make a point to get her to the citadel as soon as possible.

**To Be Continued**

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Friday Fantasy - Tirashar's Story by Eric K. Schweer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
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Wordless Wednesday.

Sunrise over a misty valley

Image by Kounelli via Flickr













When I started this blog, I thought I would never do a wordless Wednesday.  I could think of no time when I would be at a lack for anything to say.  Well, I am!

Monday’s Writers of the Web 21

"The Bard" by John Martin: a romanti...

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In the middle ages, a Bard was a revered poet, learned in the histories, and traditions of their people.  Their responsibility was to pass on the tales and traditions in an entertaining way.  I like to think of Bards as masters of the tale, a combination of theatrics and the ability to make the audience see the tale they are relating.


Today, the internet is a venue for the Bards of this new age.  Tellers of stories and tall tales.  A good Bard is one who can glean a lesson from a story or tale.  Taking that lesson, shaping and molding it, then presenting it to an audience in a manner that is interesting and entertaining. 


I have discovered a few modern day Bards in my travels through the web.  They are sometimes hard to find, often disguised behind the veils of a personal blog.  One such Bard is Lou of LouCeel, many of his stories entertain and educate, some are simple pleasures to read.  He is currently writing a story of chivalry and redemption.  One Knights Story, is the tale of a lone Knight in the Kings service during the Holy Wars.  His fair Knight is well experienced in the art of sword play and the dealing of death, but longs for it to end.  He has learned the ways of his enemy, and shows respect for those he has slain, by burying them in the manner required by their own religion.  This lone Knight begins his travels home, and enters many adventures along the way.  Adventures that serve as an education for the young Squire at his side. 


I’ll list the sections of the story below, but a regular visit to this modern day Bard’s blog will introduce you to a very interesting man.  One who is good natured, kind, and charitable.

Now all ye faithful, go forth read and enjoy.  If you find a Modern Day Bard in your travels through the digital realm, please drop me a note, letting me know where to find this learned person.

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Friday’s Fantasy Part 4 Dark Forest


Image by Epona Schweer via Flickr

If this is your first visit, you can catch up by starting with Part 1 Faroje’s Pub.  Then just follow the the links at the bottom of each section on to the next.


The forest closed around Tirashar and Tabitha, the trees seeming to weave together, forming a solid barrier on either side of the trail.  Shadows playing games with their perceptions.  Forest sounds assaulting the pair’s senses. Creating imaginary visions of  creatures of the the night to flood their thoughts.  The forest seemed to have a spirit of it’s own, a dark uncomfortable spirit.  


Tirashar, who had always been uncommonly in tune with the spirits of nature, whispered quietly.  “Mighty spirit of trees, Gods of the forest, we mean you no harm.  We’re seeking only a safe place to camp, fuel for our fire to warm the soul, rest for our wearied and worn bodies.”  Tirashar continued along the trail until she came to an opening in the trees beside the path.  The opening seemed almost to form before her eyes,  the trees slowly withdrawing branches that had seemed to obscure it.  “Thank you kind Dryads, your welcoming gesture is well noted and appreciated.”  She whispered.


Tirashar rode into the opening, and followed along until she found a small clearing not far from the path.  Lowering Tabitha to the ground, she slid off the mares back herself.  Tirashar noticed a patch of grass, led her horse to it.  While she brushed it down with a hand full of dry grass, Tirashar spoke to her faithful friend.  “Moru, my beautiful black beauty, you have done well this night, carrying double the burden and never once faltering.  Rest now, eat and restore your strength for I fear we have another long road to travel tomorrow.”  Moru nickered, and curled her lips while shaking her head, seeming to understand every word. 


“Tabitha lets find some fuel for a fire, pick only fallen limbs, dry with age for we do not wish to ager the Dryads who have been kind so far.” Tirashar said softly.


“What do you mean, what is a Dryad?” Tabitha asked in confusion.


“Dryads are tree spirits, they are aware of everything around them, and can help or hinder us.  It pays to be respectful of the spirits, and the gods who protect and cherish those spirits.”


“How do you know these things, I’ve never heard of such spirits before.”


“My mother is a healer, and village elder.  She taught me, since childhood, about all the spirits, and how to pay them the proper homage.  Tabitha the spirits of nature are powerful, and are involved in every aspect of our lives.  Those who ignore them are destined to have hardships and failures throughout all their lives.”


Tabitha was skeptical, but didn’t say anything.  Her life to this point had very little to do with anything other than Faroje’s pub.  She had heard many a tall tale told over a mug of ale, and had always credited them to the imaginations of the teller.   Most were told to impress a wench or intimidate an acquaintance.  Tabitha knew she would have trouble with these beliefs, and was surprised Tirashar was so comfortable with them.  She started collecting fallen branches for a fire, and set about preparing a pit. 


Tirashar took some dry grass, and made a little mound in the center of the pit.  Using a straight edge knife she carried on her belt, she shaved curls of wood off a dead branch, letting them land on the mound of grass.  Then selecting a few of the smaller twigs and branches Tabitha had found, she made a small cone shaped pyre over the mound. With three quick strikes of her knife on a flint, she sent a series of sparks flying into the dry grass and kindling.  Before long she had nursed a fire to life, and started adding larger pieces of wood to it. 


Tirashar and Tabitha sat near the fire, absorbing the glowing warmth it provided.  As they settled in, getting comfortable, Tirashar added a few more branches to the fire, and moved some rocks in close to the flames so they could reflect the heat towards them.  Tabitha pulled her new cloak tight around her, and laid down trying to get comfortable.  The excitement of this night had taken it’s toll on her energy.  It wasn’t long before both were fast asleep. 


Tirashar dreamt of green fields filled with wildflowers, leading up to the edge of a darkened forest.  As she walked in her dream, she got closer and closer to the forest.  A beautiful Elfin maiden, with a large live oak staff, topped by a knot of roots seemingly alive and moving, came out of the trees to greet her.  “I am Brethil, protector and caretaker of the Dryads.  I desire to meet this person who has so impressed them to have offered their protection to her.”  Brethil had a musical voice, that had an entrancing quality to it.  Her hair was pure, briliant white,  flowing in beautiful long, full locks down her back, a few errant strands hanging over one eye.  She was dressed in a form accentuating dress that seemed to be made of a fibrous material, cut and decorated with flair.


“I am Tirashar, daughter of Elfin elder, Raensilim, and wise Druid, Amrodfaer, of the house of Shashirod.  I travel to lands unknown, in search of my father.”


Gwegorch“Tirashar you have made a friend of the Doron Dryad’s. They have offered protection for you and those who travel with you.  Stay on the trails they show you. Do not venture into the woods for the Gwegorch prowl in freedom there.”  Brethil said with a firmness so like Tirashars Mother.  Visions of a creature, half man, half reptile filled Tirashar’s thoughts.  The creature had a particularly vicious appearance, and Tirashar felt the hair on back of her neck stand on end.   “Sleep lightly and short, soon the sun will rise and add other dangers to your travels.  Fear not for your friend who rides to catch up with you, for he will be shown the way to your side.  Take this talisman, it is a piece of Doron with their ley contained.  Trust to your feelings and instincts, and the ley will help lead you through troubles”   Brethil handed Tirashar a small piece of polished oak.  worn smooth, and polished by hands unknown.


Tirashar awoke with a start, and sat up.  The fire was dying down, so she added a few branches to the flames.  The vision from her dream came back to her thoughts, and sent a chill down her spine.  Suddenly Moru lifted her head and snorted alarmingly, ears alert, looking at the entrance to this small glen.  Tirashar stood quickly, and moved away from the fire, trying to fade back into the shadows of the trees.  Reaching inside her cloak sleeves, she grabbed her daggers, their sheaths strapped to each wrist.  Tirashare focused her eyes on the darkest spot she could find, hoping to accustom her eyes to the darkness and rid them of the glare from the fire.   I know better than to look into the fire, or sleep so close to the light, what was I thinking?  Tirashar wondered to herself.  She could now hear the sounds of hooves, and a branch breaking.  As she looked to the entrance of the glen, Darfrain rode into site. 


An overwhelming sense of comfort enveloped her, and Tirashar expelled an audible sigh of relief.  A welcome site Darfrain and his white stallion were.  Tirashar moved back to the fire so Darfrain could see her.  When she sat down where she had been laying before, she found a small piece of wood.  It had the same shape as that of the one Brethil had given her in her dream. Tirashar picked it up, and held it tight in her hand.  She could feel a vibration in the wood, and she could feel her worries leaving her conscious thought.


**Part 5 – The Journey Continues**


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Friday Fantasy - Tirashar's Story by Eric K. Schweer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
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Wild Coincidence

The Death of Absalom (engraving from the Doré ...

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Recently, I have been spending quite a lot of time at a new forum, a digital commune for artists.  I was lucky enough to get invited to this fabulous site, and have met a lot of new friends, and reacquainted with some old ones. When ever you hear me talking about the Pub, it is this forum that I am speaking of.  This last weekend, I was talking with Dina from Deepwater Journal.  You may remember, she did a couple chapters of David’s Past life’s, the links are over here to the right in the side bar. –>—>--->---->


We were jabbering away, and I showed her one of Pony’s pictures.  Now this is where it gets interesting, so don’t let me get too carried away.  Dina came back right away saying how wonderful the drawing was, and how she needed to get Pony to illustrate her sword and sorcery book she’s writing.  Sounding a little familiar yet?  Well of course my interest was peaked immediately, and I told gave her the link to my Friday's Fantasy, along with the link to Pony’s Flickr profile. 


It wasn’t long before I found a comment from her on the boards about my stories.  Dina said she couldn’t believe how much we were “channeling” together.  You see we had been talking about how the stories will write themselves, or more accurately how I have a narrator in my head dictating the story for me.  She went on to say that she would post the first few chapters of her story and I would see what she meant.  Oh, and by the way Dina said that Pony’s drawings were great, and she obviously had a lot of talent, sorry just a little of the proud uncle shinning through there.


Before long I was able to read Dina’s story, The Adventures of Talis and Littlefoot.  I was stunned at the similarities, and awed by the differences.  It seemed as if we had been attending the same class, and were assigned a basic story line minus characters.  Almost as if students of the same teacher each with their own style, tackling the same base line to a story with our individual visions.  I’m not going to say what exactly her story contains, you’ll have to go read for yourself and make the comparison.  I will say though that her style has an amazing flair, and is by far the better of the two stories.


I am simply taken aback by how two people can write such a similar story with out even knowing each other are writing in the same genre.  Her story is being written through her much as mine is being written through me.   I think the inspiration is different for each of us.  Pony’s art was my inspiration and the birth of Tirashar’s story.  Dina’s story was born of her dreams, so clear they must be.  Please take a quick jump over to her site, Deepwater Journal, and read her fantasy fiction.   Don’t forget to come back here Friday for the next section of Friday’s Fantasy.

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Forest Trees Whispering, Softly Singing a Melody .


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I’ve been wishing for the tranquil, revitalizing, spirit of the outdoors.  Yes I’m in one of those moods again, dreaming of the wilderness.  It’s been far too long since my last visit to the wilds I so love…   I'm feeling cooped up and crowded in this big bustling city.  So I thought maybe I could just write about it, and take myself there, at least in my thoughts. 


There was a place back home where I loved to go and sit, to think and ponder.  Sorting through all those strange thoughts, organizing, adding just a little structure to my cluttered head.  It was a lonely place, filled with spirits of times past.  Deep in the pine forest, near a small grove of Aspen trees.    There was an old miners tram, mounted on steel rails that rose quietly, magically up the mountainside.  Many a worker had ridden the tram in it’s time of prosperity.  Now it sits lonely and forlorn, weathered wood slowly corroding, splintering and falling apart.  A lone pine tree growing through the center of the tracks, obscuring the prospective view of ghostly riders. 


I would sit for hours, near that old tram, leaning against a tree just watching and listening.  Some times I could swear I heard the sound of an old electric motor, the remnants of which strewn about, groaning under a heavy burden.  At times it was the mumblings of men, worn and weary, from a long hard days work.  Men who wished only for a stiff drink and a good meal…  dreaming of that elusive mother load of a gold strike.  When you listened real close, you could hear the forest of trees whispering, silently singing a melody.  A song lonesome and sweet, filled with dreams and wonder, sorrow and serenity.  Contradictions… yet when thrown together a sound so beautiful, remarkable, and full of life! 


It was a place forgotten and lost, a place that surely had seen the sufferings and successes of people long since parted.  A place that strangely held an unusual centering, soothing, and rejuvenating power.  I could sit there and dream of centuries past…  people who came before.  Dream the simple dreams of those who toiled and troubled inside the mountain.  visualize the desires of those who worked the world above.  People harvesting its bounty or herding and hunting its  bestial gifts. Dreams so simple and supportive, lacking the stress of today's ventures.  A place I could lose myself in solitude, listening… learning from spirits old, yet young.  Guiding souls willing to lend an ear to a fellow lonely wanderer.


If I allow myself, I can take my thoughts back to that place and just faintly hear the forest of trees, whispering… singing a melody, unheard by many… treasured by a few lucky, lonely souls.

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Armor and Stone

August 6th 2008 - Leave a Little Room In Your ...

Image by Stephen Poff via Flickr










Offered openly

full of spirit, lively soul

brushed by… with apathy

dislodged, falling to umbra

washed with tears of agony

restored with faith


Offered with timidity

reserved and conservative

caustic laughter burning down

battered, bleeding, disfigured

cleansed with tears of pain

bandaged, nursed, revived

hardened with armor

carefully forged


Offered with caution

watchful, weary,

my tormented heart

love unrequited twice over

pike of scorn, savage conceit

armor pierced and damaged

spirit dampened a soul stricken

consigned to shadows of  loneliness

languishing with in cold damp darkness

stoic wall’s of stone constructed efficiently



Poetry is not my strong suit, having just recently started tinkering with it.  I thought I would give it another try, and keep refining as I learn.  This one is not exactly in the spirit of Valentines Day is it?  It is however in line with the theme of this months The Artist ChallengeUnrequited Love.  The way I saw the theme was through the fairly common results of  love offered but not reciprocated.  A person will strengthen their heart, forging a type of armor to protect it.  If rejected continually, a simple defense of  hiding the feelings, protecting them behind walls, seeming built of stone.


Vikki will be posting the submitted artwork to the challenge on Saturday.  As of tonight there were 15 entries, and about 5 more on their way.  Vikki has been raving about the submissions.   I can’t wait to see it myself, I wish I could sneak in and get a glimpse.  Be sure to go by Saturday and see what has been created, it should be a spectacular gallery showing at The Artist Challenge.

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Windows Live Writer The One Tool I Use to Compose All of My Blog Posts.

20px|Windows Live Logo Windows Live Writer

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I have had a lot  of my blogging buddies ask what I use to write my blog posts.  With the number of blogs I am posting to, I have found  Windows Live Writer to be one of the most useful tools loaded on my poor little overworked computer.  Live Writer has a number of plug-ins that have been very helpful to me.  Best of all it’s all free, just what I can afford, simple to download and install, and very very useful.  


Why I love using Live Writer, is that I can manage all of my blogs from the one program.  I don’t even have to be on the internet if  I don’t want to, Except for a few of the plug ins. The program organizes all your posts, and helps maintain an easily accessible and editable archive.  Best of all, I don’t have to deal with the on line editor that I’m not at all satisfied with.  Live Writer has a complete set formatting capabilities, and you can edit the page HTML if you chose also.  It is compatible with most popular blogging platforms, including Blogger.  You can manage scheduled posts, tags, and recently posted articles. One of the functions I hope to start using more of is the local drafts.  I can create a whole series of articles, and save them on my computer for posting at a future time.   The new version even has a Twitter update function that automatically posts a tweet for you. 


The plug in I use  most often is Zemanta.  The cool, sometimes beautiful pictures you see in the top left of the posts, except for the Friday’s Fantasy, are a result of Zemanta.  As you write your article, the plug in examines your content, and suggests pictures that may help illustrate what your writing about.  It shows the Creative Commons license for the picture, and provides the source in a link for attribution.  It also lists a series of related articles that you may wish to show a link to.  You can visit the link before you add it, to be sure it’s relevant, then just click and zip-zap, it’s automatically inserted at the Zemantaend of your post. Zemanta also provides recommended links, The Creative Commons link above was suggested by the program.  Overall it’s a wonderful plug in to help dress up your articles. Some other plug ins I use regularly are, Flikr Image, Video Insert, Picture Insert, Polaroid, Quotations, and SnagIt Screen Capture. 


If you write blog articles frequently, or even just every once in a while, I would recommend  downloading Live Writer.   You’ll thank yourself for the time and effort saving, free program before long.

Quote of the day:
I do not have a psychiatrist and I do not want one, for the simple reason that if he listened to me long enough, he might become disturbed. - James Thurber

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Monday’s Writers of the Web - 20

A book with a bound bookmark

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Monday comes along so quick, at times it takes me by surprise.  I have been so busy, keeping myself occupied with all my blogs, and writing, that I seem to let this blog suffer periodically.  That certainly in not my intention, and I’m going to have to discipline myself a little more thoroughly to keep current posts going.    I am considering doing some book  reviews, and writing prompts through the week.  I want to keep this blog more focused on my writing, and not so much on me personally.  That is what the Side Blog is for, my personal thoughts and silliness.


On to Writers of the Web for this week.  Over the weekend I went through that huge mess in my browsers bookmark sidebar.  Clearing out dead links, and trying to organize them just a little.    A good thing to, because I re-discovered this first blog, misplaced it in the clutter of my bookmarks.  Literary Jewels; a creative insight into the world of Literature,  authored by Amritbir Kaur , is a blog of thought and impression.  You’ll find great quotes from a number of sources, famous or not, and many a thought provoking article.


I found an interesting site this weekend while enjoying my ritual stroll through the blogosphere.  While reading Untangling The Past, a poem on Jane’s Writing, I discovered a writing prompt’s blog.  Cafe Writing does a monthly project where a  series of prompts are offered to bloggers.  You get to chose your own form of inspiration, then go forth to write… a poem, short, or simple article using the prompt you selected.  Then simply return to Cafe Writing and leave a comment with the URL of your post.  Of course you link back to Cafe Writing to tie into the project.  I will probably give this one a shot, and see what develops.


Some time ago, I found two blogs that register or list Blog fiction.  Now we all know I love fiction, so these were a natural for me.  I have found a few good blog novels through these sites, but I’m not going to list them until I read enough to get a good feel for them.  First off is Blog Fiction, where you can find a large selection of fiction writing throughout the web.  There are reviews, and thoughts about writing fiction on the internet to ponder and enjoy also.  After that swing by Web Fiction Guide for even more listings of blog fiction and reviews to wet your appetite for the reading.

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Friday’s Fantasy Part 3 Tabitha’s Story


  Image by Epona Schweer via Flickr

This Fantasy fiction story has taken on a life of it’s own.  The settings, and adventures along the way, are playing out in my mind daily.  I get pictures of particular scenes popping up at some of the strangest times.  Of course they are all inspired by my very talented niece, Pony’s art .  If this is your first visit, you can catch up by going to part 1 of  Friday’s Fantasy.

This particular story has become such a passion of mine, I think because it’s writing itself.  On a normal story I have to work at the process.   This one is just happening.  I need to learn to channel other stories the same way, I would never stop writing.


The darkness crowded in on the pair on the lone horse, surrounding them in mystery, and suspense.  A feeling of intimidation and uncertainty emanated from the trees, filling Tabitha with dread and fear.  Yet holding onto Tirashar, she felt a strength and confidence unknown to her before.  The shadows seemed to close in around them, flicking feeling fingers out to sense her fear.  The moon shone partial in the sky casting  increasingly unearthly, mysterious shapes behind trees, or by beside the trail.  There was no doubt in Tabitha’s thoughts that Tirashar was fearless… but she herself was terrified.  Tirashar continued down the trail, trying for as much distance as possible, with Tabitha clinging to her waist like a fearful child.


Tabitha was a young girl, only 16 years old.  Slight of build, yet shaped beautifully, with feminine curves and softness.  Her hair a dark brown, nearly black when tied up in a bun to keep it out of her work.  Her eyes a soft deep brown, compassionate and feeling. Her face smooth and graceful, almost angular,  uniquely beautiful.  she had a small mouth with full, vibrant lips.  She was a sight to behold when her hair was down, as it was now, reaching its full length, down past her waist.


Tabitha had never been a confidant person, a concomitant of being raised to be subservient.  Faroje had made it abundantly clear to her at a young age that he took her in solely as a favor to a friend, her mother, who owed him more than just money.  He had given her only what she needed to complete her chores around the pub, and survive.  Telling her frequently, how much of a burden she was, and how much she had cost him because of her clumsiness. Reminding her constantly that no other would have a use for nor want her.  She had lived at the pub doing Faroje’s bidding for the past five years.  laboring away her youth, cooking, cleaning, and just recently those other services Faroje required.  Tabitha shivered and clung to Tirashar even harder, as she thought of the shame and transgressions committed upon her by that monster.  Trying to draw strength from Tirashar to keep from fading back into herself.


Unknowing of the thoughts in Tabitha’s head, Tirashar simply thought she was cold.  “Don’t worry Tabitha, we’ll get to place we can stop and start a fire soon.  You can warm yourself then.” she said with a compassion Tabitha was not used to.


Tabitha said nothing, not knowing what to say, and fearful of  making Tirashar mad.  She wondered what would happen now, how she could repay Tirashar for taking her from that place of subjugation and misery.  Tabitha silently swore an oath to herself, “I pledge my life and service to this woman of kindness and compassion.”  Tabitha knew she would do anything to help Tirashar, even to the extent of offering her own life.  If  Tirashar had heard the oath, she would be adamant about Tabitha never offering her life or servitude to anyone, including her, ever again.


Tabitha tried to think of pleasanter times, recalling her mother, trying to visualize her face.  The picture in her head was fuzzy and without focus, fearfully Tabitha thought she was forgetting her.  She recalled her last days with her.  The devastating, wasteful disease that no one understood nor could cure.  It stole her mothers happiness and beauty, and eventually caused her to be shunned by others for fear of contagion.  Exactly what agreement was made with Faroje Tabitha had no knowledge of, except what he told her.   She remembered her mothers last words before she left for the unknown.  “Tabitha, if you come with me you’ll be shunned as I am, and marked by this demonic disease.  I can’t put that burden on you, stay here, work for this man, he will keep you well cared for.”  Tabitha thought her mother would have been destroyed by what Faroje had really done.


Darfrain rode hard, making good time with the advantage of knowing the trail.  His thoughts were swimming with visions of Tirashar, Her flowing coral hair shinning wickedly in the fire light.  The cold blue ice shinning from her eyes with deadly intent as she held that serpentine dagger to Faroje’s neck.  The incredible beauty and strength he saw in this fiery warrior princess.  Yes that is what I see her as, a warrior princess, full of strength and altruism.  Thoughts of her clouding his mind, playing with his soul spirit.  Shaking his head, Darfrain spoke aloud to no one, “What is wrong with you? Get your thoughts on the trail before the Gods take certain revenge for losing focus.”  With considerable effort, he pushed the vision of Tirashar from his mind.


Darfrain understood, now, why his mother had told him he must go to this pub.  “Darfrain, you will meet a person that will hold a vital importance to your spirit.  I do not know who it is to be, but I see fire and ice…  Such a vivid contradiction.” Cloemillia said with thoughtful expression, her hands searching out the features of his face to see what her eyes could not.  “My son, this is of importance, it is being shown to me with such a clear vision of vague purpose.  The only possibility is that a part of your destiny awaits you.” 


Darfrain urged his mount on, he needed to catch up to them, quickly before they tried to set a camp in the wrong place.  These woods were full of dangerous creatures, predators of the night, many of a mythical nature.  The creatures were capable of many a devious and demonic acts and deceptions.  Darfrain needed to find Tirashar quickly, for his own conscious well being.  Fearing all  tragedies possible, his heart hardened and pushed him forward towards his destiny. 


**Part 4 The Dark Forest**.

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Friday Fantasy - Tirashar's Story by Eric K. Schweer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
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Wild Wednesday

forced spring

Image by Darwin Bell via Flickr

The past few days, have been long and tiring.  Tuesday, I worked 14 hours, I’m not complaining at all, just a little tired.  Today I worked 12 hours.  You know the wild thing is we have not been busy at all for about a month.  There have even been a few very slim weeks.  With the economy the way it is, I’m grateful for any extra hours that may be handed out.  This construction industry is pretty much a feast and famine type of thing.  These days it’s been more famine than feast.


I’ve still managed to make a few rounds of the blogosphere.  I wanted to post something for Wednesday, so I thought I would share this interesting invitation I got from Vikki, ERR, The Pub Wench.  I hope you get as much of a kick out of  it as I did.  I’m going to add my initial reactions' to this in italics, with a little just a little exaggeration added for effect, LOL.

Hello Fair Spirit of the Blog,

We have been watching you.  (Looking around, checking over my shoulder.  I get up from the computer and grab a flashlight. Spend a little time searching the dusty corners, and dark showy recesses.  Nope no one there, but the feeling is.)  We are artist. At least that's what they call us. You may even know us. We'd like to invite you to a member of our very Private Club. We're very selective and only an elite few are welcome on our hallowed grounds. We pick you.  (Wow, I feel special now, still a little uncomfortable, have to keep an eye out.  Going to be hard to get ride of this feeling of being watched.)

We even have a little 'chit chat' room just for the likes of you. It's rightfully called Dante's Pub. (Did you say pub? as in brew, ale, spirits of the  intoxicating  type, I’m listening.)   But when your enter BEWARE! You are entering the abyss of the artist mind! (Huh, caution may be in order.  I like dark places though.)  You're welcome to watch from afar while drinking your brew or pull up a chair and join us for a little chat. (A little ale and a chat, sounds inviting to me!)  Be sure and register and then log in.  After all, this is a very private club. We don't allow just any wanderer in our midst. ( Ahh there's that special feeling again, These folks know how to sweet talk a guy.)

Don't dilly dally now! It wont cost you a pence. Check out The Artist Challenge and Dante's Pub- that is if your daring and think yourself worthy to be amongst the souls we've claimed?  (FREE, hey that’s what I’m talking about.)

Farewell...until we hear from you,

Master Mike and the Pub Wench

Artist Challenge-
Dante‘s Pub -


What a creative and intriguing invitation wouldn’t you say.  So you should go over and see what's going on.  The pub is filling up, and I see guests there all the time, and some great new members regularly.

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Monday’s Writers of the Web

Hemingway posing for a dust jacket photo by Ll...

Image via Wikipedia

Monday, oh fair Monday how quick you arrive, surprise, surprise. I have been very busy for the past couple of weeks, so If I have missed a few of your posts, please pardon the absence.  You’ll find out why near the end of this post, (snickering and giggling like a foolish school boy). You would think that with Friday’s Fantasy  burgeoning in my mind, and flowing flowing through my finger tips, I would be worn and weary.  Not quite yet though!  It seems the more involved I get with writing these stories, the more thoughts ideas, and plots evolve and show glimmers of their essence, tantalizing and tempting my thoughts.  Ahh but more about that later, let’s just keep everyone waiting just a short while longer.


This week, I have only two projects to share with you.  One deals with art, and one involves writing, hopefully by a number of authors.   First off lets get started with a little art.  Many of you are well aware of Vikki’s Blog, (Kel, this is the site I told you about, I know you would love it) at The Red Chair Gallery.  She is an accomplished and talented artist, and a writer.  Her posts always contain a piece of original artwork from her, and a very interesting and fun story to accompany it.   Vikki contributed two chapters to David’s Past Life’s collaborative project, and played a mjor role inhelping to organize it.  The links are over there, ---->  to the right…… in the side bar.  If the captivating art work doesn't grab you, ( I can’t imagine that not happening) The stories will. 


For a few months now, Vikki has been doing an art challenge with a few of her fellow blog artist’s.  A theme is decided on, and the artist’s have to create a piece interpreting that theme.  I have two favorites, Jealousy, and Hope.  Well Vikki has now created a web site exclusively for the Artist Challenge.  Artists are welcome to submit works for the challenges, and join in the fun.  In her own words, it is “ a private art club, for artists, art patrons, and fool hardy souls”. 

"Abandon all hope ye who enter here. Pull up a chair and be of good cheer."

The artist awaits you.....

I have entered the dark, dusty abyss and emerged safely in one piece, so I would say fairly it’s a fun and visually entrancing site.  If your an artist join the fun so those of us with limited ability can view from a safe distance, and appreciate your talents.


OK…. OK, So now let me tell you what I have been doing.  As if two blogs isn’t enough, really three with the side blog.  I have started two others.  One of them I’m writing in the voice that I think of my dog Peanut having.  He is the one that is my profile picture, and really small.  Being constantly full of energy and playing all the time, he reminds me of a small child.  Life Through Peanut’s Eyes is a fun and playful blog, even if not very creative.   I started this blog about two or three weeks ago, not real sure, my weeks seem to be fusing into a large mass.  


The other one I set up this weekend, actually Sunday evening over a period of about 4 hours.  I loved doing the chapter for David’s Past Life’s, and really enjoy the theory of collaborative writing.  So I created The Collaborative Writers Corner.  I hope to attract some of my fellow blog authors, who may have a yarn to spin, or might enjoy adding a little something from their unique vision to an existing story.  Hopefully we will end up with a large selection of active stories, of all genres, changing and taking shape almost daily.  Check out this post I did on the Side Blog, and you’ll get the idea.  So far I have gotten one fellow writer to join the fun. Lou of LouCeel has joined our little corner, and will be adding his great talent to the project.  I’m really excited about this project, and have even  started a new story over there in that tiny corner of the blogosphere, (Thanks Kel for the inspiration).  I have new sections of the story, forming and giving light to my slightly over active imagination, just about hourly.  So come on over and see what I have done in just one evening, and perhaps join in the fun. 


One special note of thanks.  Speedcat, you are Da Man!  Thank you ever so much for the help with code for the badge.  I would have been struggling with that for many more hours if you hadn’t lent a helping hand.


Not to worry, I will continue Friday’s Fantasy right here as planned.  This story is a particular passion of mine, and I have been enjoying being the medium for it to flow.

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